


Something Like a Pattern

by bachelorgirl



Category: Brick (2005)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-24
Updated: 2006-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bachelorgirl/pseuds/bachelorgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendan and The Brain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like a Pattern

“You didn’t call.”

Brendan blinked awake and shifted slightly, not bothering to roll himself over. He knew that voice. “Didn’t I tell you to go home and get some sleep?”

“You said you’d call.”

“No, that’s what I’ve been sayin’ all week. Told you to go sleep today.” Brendan buried his head in the pillow.

Brain shrugged, Brendan could hear it. “Got used to waiting up for you.”

Carefully, Brendan rolled himself over so he was now facing the voice coming from his window. “Game’s over, Brain. Don’t need to wait up for me anymore.”

“I know.”

“So, what’re you doing hovering in behind the curtains, all shifty as smoke?”

“‘Bout time I took my turn.” Brain said, wrinkling his nose and adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

Brendan struggled to sit up, but gave up after his shoulder protested. Loudly. He settled for squinting and reaching for his glasses. "And you’re sitting on my windowsill because…?”

“I missed my bus.”

Brendan waited.

“It runs by your house more than mine.”

Brendan continued to wait.

“I brought you notes from 1st and 4th today. I’ll trade you for yesterday’s. I know you were there even if I don’t know how you sat through a whole day of academia after you tipped the bulls to Laura.” Brain held up his bookbag.

“What’re you talking about? I was there. Mrs. Kasprzyk gave a pop quiz. You weren’t. You went home and slept today after I talked to you on the field.”

“Yesterday I went home and slept. Just like you told me. End game was two days ago and it’s actually tomorrow today. Don’t think about it too hard.”

“Oh.” Brendan pushed himself up to a half-sitting position, surprised to hear that he'd slept through almost a whole day. “Um… bag’s…” Brendan coughed as he pointed to his beat-up schoolbag shoved haphazardly under the desk.

Brain perched himself onto the corner of Brendan’s desk, flipping through the sheets of loose-leaf that were shoved carelessly between the pages of an empty, battered spiral notebook. “Air was buzzing today. Word on the street is that you were done for.”

“That so?”

“Is.”

Brain flipped another page.

“What do you think?”

“By lunch half the basketball team and two-thirds of auto shop claimed to have seen you being hauled off by the bulls on your way out of Clements’ office yesterday afternoon.”

“Where’d they take me?”

“That’s the part they can’t agree on. And, Brad Bramish and the upper crust are saying some yeg beat you unrecognizable out behind the portables after lunch, and the reef worms that hang out under the bleachers let the smoke clear long enough to confirm the story. I think they’re sore from you heeling their dealer and putting him in the hospital and cuttin' off their supply.”

“The thug?” He'd been nothing but a nuisance to Brendan.

“That’s the one.”

“He was harmless. They gunning to run things ‘round into a circle and iron ‘em out until they’re square?”

Brain shrugged. “Dunno yet. I didn’t think he was as big of a jake runner as they made it seem today. I’ll see what I can call up tomorrow at school. Also, the cheerleaders claim to not have a clue who you are, by the way.”

Brendan raised his eyebrows slightly.

“I’m sure you’re crushed.” Brain's tone never changed. Hard to read as ever.

“Bulls come by earlier. Today. Or yesterday. Flashing their tin and trying to find something to pin on me. They got nothing and they know it. Give me the third. Humming a tune and waiting for me to sing along.”

“And?”

“Tone deaf so far as they can tell.” Brendan tried to smile. It made his face throb.

“They’re buying what you’re selling? Like you had nothing to do with it?”

“For the moment.” Brendan wasn't worried.

"Clements didn't give you up?"

"We have a deal. He's doing well doing well by me so far. Not in his best interest to sell me out." Brendan paused. “Why were you sitting on my windowsill?”

“Notes. Yesterday for me, today for you. First and fourth period. Is any of this sounding familiar?” Brain waved the pile of paper he'd taken out of Brendan's notebook in Brendan’s general direction.

Brendan coughed so hard that he spent the next few minutes trying to regain his breath. “That explains why you’re at my house. Not why you shimmied up the drainpipe and were sitting on my windowsill while I was sleeping. ‘Stead of coming through the front door like someone taught you some manners.”

“Had to get creative.”

“Because you couldn’t find my front door?”

“It’s been a long time.” Brain just looked at him, calm. Matter of fact. Unblinking. Just like his self.

“Door didn’t move since the last time you used it.”

“Also, you’re grounded.”

“Come again?” Brendan asked, blindsided by the revelation.

“I wasn’t allowed to come through the front door. You are, and I quote, “not to be entertaining visitors for the next little while. Even you, um, Brain.” I'm surprised she remembered my name. I think I was the last person she was expecting to ring the bell today. She made me leave my chem notes downstairs before closing the door in my face. She’ll bring them up to you later, I guess.” Brain shoved the notebook back into Brendan’s schoolbag and shoved the notes into his own backpack. “Still haven’t figured out how you’re racing for the top GPA in the class with notes as unorganized as that and the fact that you’re out of class more’n you’re in.”

“I’m going to have to find out how long I’m out of commission for.” Brendan mused. “See if I’ll need you to leave my diploma on the kitchen counter for me too, or if I’ll be able to pick that up for myself.”

“Because you’re half-dead, or because your mama’s got you under lock and key?”

“I’m not half dead.” Brendan coughed again and he could see Brain pretend not to notice the red streak on Brendan’s arm after he wiped it across his lips.

“Liar.”

“Besides you look at least half dead yourself. Tired?” Brendan didn't know if he'd ever seen Brain look tired.

Brain shrugged. “A bit. Been up for the last day or so. Not important. You’ve been up pretty much all day for the last five. Speaking of nothing, I should blow before your mom gets wind of this…” Brain made a motion between the two of them. He pointed over to where he’d left a paper bag sitting by the window. “I, um, brought you dinner.”

“Yeah?” Brendan kept his eyes glued on Brain.

“You know, when you’re up to it. Just soup from ‘Coffee And Pie’. It’s not much.”

“I don’t think I’ve eaten in a couple of days.”

“They make good soup. Meatloaf’ll probably kill you, but I can vouch for the soup.”

Brain kicked the side of the desk with his shoes. Brendan reached out and pressed a hand against his shin. “Hey now, last thing we need is you getting busted.”

“Oh, right. I was never very good at that ‘under the radar’ stuff.”

Brendan smiled, “I know. That’s why you do the research and I do the blending.” rendan tugged lightly on Brain’s khakis. “You don’t have to go. You didn’t always.”

It’s not like they hadn’t done this before. But, that was a long time ago. Eons in high school years. But, they had. It used to be something like a pattern. Worn in and comfortable. This time… well, it had been a while and things had changed and, maybe the grooves of the pattern weren’t so well worn by now and maybe it wasn’t possible to retread an old path.

“It’s been a long time.” Brain replied, echoing his words from when he’d first arrived.

“Eons.”

“You don’t want to be alone? Sleep?”

“Been both alone and sleeping for the last two days.” The truth fell easily from Brendan's lips.

“I think that might have been your mom’s plan.”

“What about my plan?” Brendan didn't realize he had a plan until Brain tried to leave and it seemed like that wasn't part of the plan.

“Seemed like it was working for you 'til now.”

Brendan nodded. “It was. But, this could work. It did.”

“For a while. A while ago.” Brain looked at him expectantly.

Brendan nodded again. He could twist words and make things happen with almost everyone, but right now he was lost for words. Brendan couldn’t do it, he couldn’t manipulate him. He never could. Brain always had to want to play along. All Brendan could do was ask. Brain was here. He’d come, all Brendan could do was hope that he would stay.

Brendan settled himself back down onto his bed, carefully not looking at Brain. He lay there, listening carefully.

Brain hopped down off the desk, walked over to the bed and looked down at Brendan. “So, what are we going to do tonight, Pinky?”

Brendan smiled weakly. An expression he hadn’t heard in an eon and a half. And one he’d missed more than he’d thought. “Same thing we do every night, Brain.” He shift over almost imperceptibly, making space for Brain in the narrow, messy twin bed. “Try to take over the world.”

Brain climbed carefully, almost hesitantly, into the bed and lay down beside Brendan. Pressing up against him, Brendan saw him close his eyes. “How’s about putting that off until tomorrow? When you’re only one-third dead.”

“Tomorrow. After breakfast at Pirellis.” Brendan didn't ask. Somehow, he knew.

“Like we used to?”

“Nothing wrong with a pattern."


End file.
